


Straight to video

by TheSingerThatYouWanted (orphan_account)



Category: Nathan Barley (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheSingerThatYouWanted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm honestly not really sure where this idea came from, but I quite like it. Title taken from the song of the same name by Mindless Self Indulgence, which seems both really inappropriate given this fic is just pointless fluff and MSI... aren't... and yet sort of apt. I think Jones probably quite likes MSI. I don't know. Anyway, hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Straight to video

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly not really sure where this idea came from, but I quite like it. Title taken from the song of the same name by Mindless Self Indulgence, which seems both really inappropriate given this fic is just pointless fluff and MSI... aren't... and yet sort of apt. I think Jones probably quite likes MSI. I don't know. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

“Oh, fuck’s sake, Nathan!”

“I’ve said I’m sorry, babe,” he replied, and Claire scoffed at the falsely-apologetic tone to his voice, but he blundered on nonetheless.

“What can I say? Sometimes my threes look like ones, it’s not like it’s my fault.”

“Bollocks. What am I supposed to do with the next two hours?”

It shouldn’t be possible to shrug sheepishly down the phone, but somehow Nathan managed it. With an exasperated sigh, Claire hung up, stuffing the phone into her pocket. Brilliant. So not only did she have to meet up with some twat who fancied himself some sort of intellectual, but was really just a pot of cash happy to call himself producer for the time being, she now had to wander around a shitty part of London for two hours first. Well, that was just the icing on the cake.

Her feet were moving on autopilot now, and she barely glanced at her surroundings until- about five minutes later- she realised she’d stopped. Claire looked up at the familiar door with a hint of surprise and rather a lot more resignation. Of course she’d end up back here. Judging by the two people who usually inhabited it, the House of Jones was built over some kind of black hole, sucking in the hopeless wanderers with nothing better to do than sit around complaining and alternately drinking box wine and eye-wateringly strong coffee. Right now, it was exactly what Claire needed.

She knocked, but it wasn’t much of a surprise when nobody answered. They were probably both asleep- Jones never slept at night if he could help it, and returning to London after two months bouncing around Australia had to be a bit of a shock to the system. Carefully she retrieved the spare key from where it was tucked behind a peeling flyer tacked to the wall, and let herself in.

The flat looked deserted. She looked around for a while, and though Dan and Jones were clearly home- the suitcases that lay, not quite unpacked, in the hall, and the mugs in the sink were evidence enough of that- she couldn’t see either of them in the living room, or the kitchen. She looked into the bedroom briefly, but there was nobody there either. Maybe they were just at the shops or something, she decided, after opening the fridge and finding nothing but a strong and unidentifiable smell. Even Jones couldn’t survive on coffee alone, certainly not forever.

She made herself a cup anyway, while she waited, and carried it through to the living room. If she still had over an hour to kill, she might as well spend it on a sofa. Her sofa, almost. A bit. She’d certainly paid more of the rent than Dan had, which had to count some way towards ownership of the things in the flat. She didn’t know why Jones let him stay, honestly.

Something on the other side of the room caught her eye, and she put her cup down to go and have a closer look. It wasn’t much, just an old video camera. Outdated five years ago, but for some reason it wasn’t even dusty. Like someone had been using it.

“But that’s mine!” she said to nobody in particular. Dan must have stolen it, she realised with a snap of anger. It hadn’t had more than a couple of old location shots on it, but it was a matter of sibling pride. Do Not Touch My Stuff. She looked around, momentarily concerned that her brother might walk in, before sitting down and flipping out the screen. What had Dan wanted it for anyway?

Her old footage was still saved there, but then there were dozens of other videos she’d never seen before. She frowned, hesitating for a second, then pressed play.

A slightly grainy image faded up on the tiny screen. It was unmistakeably Dan, pink-cheeked and smiling. Drunk, obviously. From offscreen came Jones’ voice, excited and slightly slurred as though he’d been drinking too- though that might have just been the camera’s shite sound quality.

_“Look, I’ve got it working!”_

_“What- Jones, are you filming?” replied Dan, laughing fondly._

_“Yeah! I wanna remember this.”_

A faint sense of guilt tugged at Claire then, like she had stumbled across something private, but she kept watching. It was her camera, she told herself. That gave her every right to watch it. 

_The camera shook, momentarily sweeping up to point blurrily at the sky, before refocusing on Jones leaning back against Dan’s chest. The taller man sighed, wrapping an arm around Jones’ waist and hitching him closer. Grinning, Jones waved at the camera._

_“Hi, future us!”_

_Dan laughed._

_“Future us?”_

_“Well who else is gonna watch this?” replied Jones, leaning back to look up at Dan. “Anyway, shut up. Awright, so this is us on the first night of my tour. Well, not my tour exactly, but I’m the support, so it sort of is. And Dan found the booze pretty early, so he’s kinda pissed. He’s cute when he’s drunk, though, so I’m doing alright out of it.”_

_Dan frowned, but then the camera wobbled again as Jones turned round to kiss him-_

Claire turned the camera off hurriedly, heart pounding. This was… private, and she felt sure Dan wouldn’t want her to be watching it. At the same time, though, the little sister part of her wanted to see more. Dan seemed happy in the videos, happier than she’d seen him in years, and if nothing else she could use it as some kind of blackmail later on. Hesitantly she clicked through to the next video. It wasn’t much, just twenty seconds or so of the view along the beach, and though she could hear someone talking in the background she couldn’t make out the words. Dismissing it, she clicked past a few more videos before settling on one. 

_For a moment there was an extreme close up of Jones’ face, but he quickly moved away to reveal a nondescript hotel room. Jones sat on the edge of the bed, gently shaking at the heap of duvets that presumably covered Dan. When he got no reaction Jones shifted, practically lying on top of him._

_“Dan? C’mon, Dan, they’ve got waffles. Waffles, Dan!”_

_“Go ‘way.”_

_“Da-an-”_

_“Piss off, I’m asleep.”_

Claire smiled, shaking her head as she skipped a few more tracks, selecting a clip more or less at random. This one didn’t have any dialogue, and it took Claire a few moments to work out whether or not it even had a picture. Eventually, though, she realised it was a blurred video of one of Jones’ DJ sets. 

“Dan, you sap,” she muttered, flicking through to another video. The sound was clearer on this one. 

_“Oh, god, Jones- when I get you back to the hotel I’m- ah!- I’m gonna-”_

“Christ, Dan- that’s enough of that!” 

Claire held the camera as far away from her as she could, picking out another clip and trying to erase the image of Jones biting at her brother’s neck, fumbling at the buttons of his shirt, from her memory forever. 

_“Dan?”_

Claire risked a peek back down at the camera’s tiny screen. She flinched at the realisation that Dan and Jones appeared to be in bed together, the lens of the camera seemingly half covered by pillows, but after a second she realised they were just lying there. 

_“Yeah?”_

_Jones smiled softly, cuddling up closer to Dan’s side._

_“Love you.”_

A faintly uncomfortable warmth rose in her cheeks then, guilt flaring. This wasn’t for her to be watching, she knew, but then the next video started playing automatically and she didn’t want to look away. 

_The horizon seemed to stretch out forever, trees occasionally whipping past almost faster than the human eye could register, and from offscreen came a whoop of delight. A few seconds later the camera spun to show Jones beaming from the passenger seat of a car, Dan at the wheel._

_“Australia’s fucking massive!” he exclaimed. “Our next gig’s in… shit, I don’t know, Dan’s got the map, but it’s ages away. Looked like it was gonna take ages to get there but then the band hired these cars, and they’re great fun! I reckon I could go days just drivin’ about in one of these. What d’you think, Dan?”_

_“Definitely._

_“Really?”_

_“Yeah. You’re here, and Nathan and his gang of twats are the other side of the world. I could do this forever.”_

The mention of Nathan jolted her, and she checked her watch. 

“Shit.” 

Ten minutes until her meeting. She turned the camera off, tossing it to one side and hurrying to the door. She could text Dan later, explain that she’d tried to drop by when they were out, but right now she had a meeting to get to and some information about her brother that she needed to get her head around. So she hurried away, tucking the spare key back into its hiding place, and heading out into the cold London drizzle. It was funny; with the videos she’d been watching, she’d almost forgotten where she was. 

~*~ 

**Text message from: Claire. Received 4.16pm.**  
Hey, Dan. Dropped by earlier, nobody home. Nicked some coffee. If you and your boyfriend want me to pay you back then let me know, there’s a café near Nathan’s place that’s pretty decent. 

**Text message from: Claire. Received 4.17pm.**  
And don’t do anything stupid, I’m not outing you to ‘Rape or anything. I’m just saying that I want to see you. It’s weirdly kind of sweet, you and Jones. 

**Text message from: Claire. Received 4.19pm.**  
Don’t you dare fuck it up. 

**Text message from: Dan. Received 4.25pm.**  
I'm doing my best not to, and I don’t even want to ask how you know about it. Tomorrow at 1? 

**Text message from: Claire. Received 4.27pm.**  
Sounds alright. 

**Text message from: Claire. Received 4.28pm.**  
Oh, and tell Jones he can keep the camera. 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I own nothing. Well, I own some things, but none of them are these characters, this show, or the song I got the title from. Comments/feedback are always very much appreciated, and you're all lovely. Plus your hair looks nice today.


End file.
